


Levi, Clear and Blue

by BlankVitaminSea



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Sports, Alternate Universe - Swimming, Athletes, Erwin is ridiculously attractive and swims IM, Insomnia, M/M, Nonbinary Hange Zoë, Repressed Levi, Rivalry, Sharing a Room, Slow Burn, Unresolved Emotional Tension, hange is the hot best friend we all need, levi is sullen and sprints butterfly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-24 02:33:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30065322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlankVitaminSea/pseuds/BlankVitaminSea
Summary: Levi's eye caught on someone-- a tall, broad-chested swimmer in orange and blue. The first beep sounded, and the heat mounted the blocks. The swimmer's wet calves glinted in the afternoon sun, and he curled his toes around the edge of the weathered metal.Hange bumped their thigh into Levi's. “Who's that Austrian-looking fuck? I’ve never seen him before."Eruri College Swimmer! AU, in which Levi swims for FSU. He's wary: who's the new guy on the rival team? And who gave him the right to be so infuriatingly attractive?(Added art! Get all your sunburned Erwin here!)
Relationships: Levi Ackerman & Hange Zoë, Levi Ackerman/Erwin Smith
Comments: 19
Kudos: 63





	Levi, Clear and Blue

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! This is dedicated to swimmers, especially LGBTQ+ swimmers. Also, UF, FSU, and FAU are _completely arbitrary_ \-- I'm not affiliated with, or trying to make statements about any aspect of these three universities.
> 
> Illustrations at the end of the chapter!

Levi stood at the edge of the warm-up lane and stretched his elbow over his head. The sunshine glinted off the water, churning with swimmers in front of him: smooth, slick elbows rose out of the water to plunge back in, latex caps submerged and resurfaced with a flash of iridescent goggles and a gasp, and pale soles scissored down the lane and splashed surges of froth into the air.

Levi had slept on the bus to Boca Raton, so he felt good for this meet, which was fortunate, considering he was an incurable insomniac. FAU was hosting the tri-meet at an outdoor YMCA. Wonderfully bearable. If it were three teams in an indoor facility-- the echoes would get to him long before the nerves did.

One of his teammates slid past him and readied before the gutter to dive into the warm-up lane. Petra, in pink racing goggles and their team’s maroon-and-gold one-piece. That's right, the 200 breaststroke was coming up. She grinned at him, turned and crouched with her arms in a straight V, and dove.

Levi pressed his goggles against his eyes, and the bright poolside tinted a shade. He readied his stance, tucked his chin to his chest, under his outstretched arms, and took a deep breath. Sweat and chlorine, talking and splashing water. He dove.

A rush of bubbles, then they cleared behind him into the clear blue. Hips up and down, butterfly kicks. It was wonderfully cool, a stark contrast to the earnest sun above-water, and diffuse undulations of light striped the floor of the pool far below. His shadow glided beneath him. 

Sometimes Levi fancied himself a mermaid, though he would never tell anyone, and he'd clout Hange if they suggested it. 

Well, Hange wouldn't suggest it. Mermaids didn’t swim like Levi did.

His ams were still pressed tightly together above his head. He pulled his palms toward him, bent at the elbows, through toward his hips. Contraction of his abdomen, lash of his legs like a wave, the water’s resistance rolling down the length of them, and he shot forward. Flash of his head up-- bare inhale-- arms breaching the water from his sides, then he arced forward again to repeat the cycle. 

God, he loved the butterfly.

He kept his pace easy for the first two laps, forty percent, he estimated, slow enough so he wasn't burning through his energy or brushing Petra’s toes. The cadence of butterfly was beautiful; it was addicting-- he wasn't an adversary of the water, he was a byproduct of it. They had an understanding, where if he followed through his strokes, hips and arms and legs, he could rush through the water. And If he wanted to go faster, then, well, the water demanded more.

That familiar ache was rising in his chest - the need to go faster, to go all-out. It was a compulsion, no, a need. 

No, he couldn't. Not now. He increased his speed to sixty percent-ish, switched to an easy freestyle, then ended his last lap with a mild butterfly. Along the way he’d picked up some anxiety; he’d be up on the blocks after the next two events, and then it would be all on him. A mounting buzzing behind his eyes, between his ears. His stomach had unsettled on his last flip turn, and it hasn’t righted itself. Fuck.

He pulled himself out of the water and wandered to the bleachers, where FSU had pitched an awning, and his teammates were sitting or standing, talking, watching, laughing. He grabbed two Gatorades, though he wasn't going to drink them-- liquids before events tended to make him feel heavy.

Hange was sitting in the shade, to the side of the awning a few rows up. It was their preferred kind of spot, so they could observe the other team and survey the pool at a good height; right now they were sprawled with their elbows on the bleacher behind them, their swim cap and goggles tucked into the thigh of their fastskin, and a homework binder neglected in their lap.

Levi tossed them the Gatorades, and they broke into a grin. "Ho, Levi. How was warm-ups?"

Levi sat down. “Same as always."

“So you're anxious."

Levi rolled his eyes, and Hange elbowed him "Don't worry. You'll be fine."

Logically, Levi knew he usually did fine, but that didn't stop the roiling in his chest. “Thanks, Hange." 

Their event wasn't until later, so they hadn’t entered the water yet. They looked comfortable and dry, with their brown hair fluffy in a half-knot. Hange uncapped both Gatorades, took gulp from each, pressed their rims together, and shook. Electric blue and lemon-lime sloshed into an aqua green. 

Levi’s lips twitched. Hange took a swig from their signature flavor and regarded him.

"Levi, you'll be fine. Senously. And besides, the tri-meet is friendly. Won’t affect our rankings. Think about it.”

"Whoever wins hosts next year." 

“Levi, it's a time to get _laid_.”

“I am not talking about this with you."

It was unofficially true; the older swimmers talked about it like it was the annual event of the fall. “That rugged backstroker from FAU is mine," Gunther had declared on the bus. Petra had giggled; there weren't really dibs during the tri-meet, the older swimmers had stressed to them, as a matter of culture. Unless they were your significant other, of course. 

The whole business made Levi deeply uncomfortable. He couldn't imagine sleeping with someone on a whim, without knowing them somewhat well-- at least, he’d never done it. And swimming wasn't about having sex. He felt disgusted to even think about it, him and someone he met through swimming.

He’d spent last year bunking with Hange, who had thankfully decided not to participate. Levi had once asked about the logistics of the meet, last fall, trying to approach the topic from the side. “So every swimmer is bunking with another one on their team."

"Right."

Levi stayed silent.

It took a moment for Hange to pick up. Levi felt deeply relieved. "I think people just trade off the room at different times. Or, you know."

"I don't know," Levi said, scandalized.

"Ah huh."

More silence.

Hange smiled. “I'm not planning on needing the room this year, if that's what you were asking." 

That _was_ what Levi was asking-- Hange turned heads wherever they went-- but Levi wouldn't admit it. “No, Hange. You can do whatever you want. Just text me."

The men’s 200 individual medley was underway. Swimmers knifed through the water. Explosive sprays of foam kicked up behind them. 

Levi bounced his leg. “Last heat?”

“Second to last.“

The last swimmer, FAU, touched the wall, then the swimmers pulled themselves out of the water, slick and easy and powerful. The last heat of men were readying themselves behind the blocks, adjusting their goggles, shifting their feet and swinging their arms back and forth. So these were the fastest IMers from their three universities. Levi’s interest piqued; the fastest heats were the most fun to watch. He skimmed the lineup for maroon and gold caps, but his eye caught on someone-- a tall, broad-chested swimmer in orange and blue, standing steadily behind his block. 

The first beep sounded, and the swimmers mounted their blocks. The swimmer from UF stepped into place and adjusted his stance. His wet calves glinted in the afternoon sun, and he curled his toes around the edge of the weathered metal. 

Levi couldn't see the swimmer’s eyes behind his green goggles, but he could tell his face was noticeably masculine and handsome, with dark brows and a strong, aquiline nose. 

Hange bumped their thigh into Levi's. “Who's that Austrian-looking fuck? I’ve never seen him before."

"Me either,” Levi said. The screen read _Lane 5, Erwin Smith_.

“Think he's a freshman?"

Not likely. He moved with too much assurance. "Maybe." 

Second beep.

The men crouched down. The swimmer drew into a taut, tense curve. He hooked his hands over the edge of the block. His calves flexed. 

_Beep._

They sprung off the blocks and plunged underwater. Clouds of bubbles, swimmers emerged with bodies undulating in kicks, and then arms swung across the water. Butterfly. The swimmer - Erwin - was broad and powerful, but he was getting edged out by Keiji, FSU’s best IMer.

“Keiji’s doing well,” Hange murmured.

Levi nodded.

Keiji reached the wall first, Erwin a fraction behind. Some of Levi's teammates under the awning cheered. They both flipped, and--

_Jesus._

Erwin exploded off the wall.

Hange was up. “What the fuck was that?” Levi stood, and then Hange was hurrying to the side of the pool, Levi tagging behind. Erwin was now a good foot in front of Keiji as they kicked underwater, and when they both breached the surface, Erwin was an arm's length ahead. 

He approached the wall first and sprung off like lightning. He emerged in backstroke, and his shoulders rotated easily as he swept the water.

“He's good,” Hange breathed. 

From then on, he stayed an arm’s length in front of the lanes nearest to him, losing ground on the length of the lane and gaining it back off the walls. He slammed his hand into the finish and the timer updated.

_1:43.03._

The UF bleachers erupted into cheers.

Keiji touched a second and a half later, and the rest of the swimmers reached the wall soon after. They pulled themselves out of the water to stand on the concrete. Erwin turned away from Levi’s side of the pool and flipped up his goggles. He was breathing hard, the lines of his shoulder blades expanding and falling, and a swimmer from the next lane over, FAU, gave him a fist bump. They exchanged words that Levi couldn’t make out, and then Erwin strode away from the blocks, toward the opposite end of the pool, where UF had their warm-up lane. A good amount of his teammates congratulated him-- four guys, six girls. Levi could tell he was smiling, but he couldn’t see it-- a stout girl even flung her arms around him. The group said something, and Erwin laughed, a full, rich sound that carried across the pool. He flipped down his goggles and slipped into their warming lane. 

“How do you think he does that?” Hange said. They stared at him and pinched their lower lip. “Do you think he’s honed anticipating the wall, or is he just freakishly good at counting from the flags, or the T-markers, or does he hit legs twice a day? Or maybe it’s something in his thyroid, his internal chemistry--” 

“Hange.” They were about to slide into biomedical, and Levi wouldn’t be able to do good service with his listening. He tried to pinpoint Erwin in the warming lane--

 _Beep._ The first heat of the women’s 100 butterfly dove off the blocks.

“You better get ready,” Hange said. 

A pang of disappointment, and then Levi caught himself. No. Stop. This was ridiculous.

Hange was looking at him curiously. “What’s up?” 

Levi stiffened. “Nothing.” 

“It’s the guy, isn’t it?” 

“What? No.” 

Hange’s eyes widened. Levi took a step back.

“You think he’s cute, don’t you?” 

Levi felt his face heat up. “No.”

Hange grinned. “You _do._ ”

“I’m leaving.” He strode away from Hange, to FSU’s warm-up lane. Hange was his closest friend, and the only one who he’d told explicitly that he was gay; Levi had a feeling his other teammates knew, but it was none of their business. He was content to let them assume something nebulous, because why would he need to inform them? 

He tried to clear his mind as he swam a lap. He liked warming up twice, the second time much quicker than the first. It was comforting, like he was preparing to be twice as limber, and maybe if he didn’t do it, he would swim badly. It hadn’t failed him yet.

After, he walked to the front of the pool, where the other swimmers in his heat were lingering as they waited. Levi was Lane 5, which was reserved for the fastest swimmer in the heat. The other fastest lane was Lane 4, where a freckled man from FAU was stretching his arms in the grass directly opposite. 

Two swimmers in blue and orange were talking by the blocks, but they quieted as Levi took position opposite Lane 5, and Levi could feel their stares out of the corner of his vision. His fingers twitched. Yes, he was short. Five fucking two, and readying for the fifth lane in the last heat. He felt a pulse of satisfaction-- it was him standing here, not them, so they could sulk about it. 

The heat in front of them finished, and Levi’s heat walked up behind the blocks. Now a _lot_ of people were staring at him, he could _feel_ it, like prickles on his neck. Fuck. This was what it was _always_ like. A burst of anxiety, cold in his chest. And they’d be paying _extra close_ attention. They’d be _expecting him to fail_.

“Go, Levi,” Hange called. A teammate shushed them, but Levi felt a swoop of gratefulness. He rolled his shoulders and shook out his hands. God, the swimmers next to him were tall, but he wouldn’t focus on that. He had to focus on himself.

First beep. He stepped onto the block. The pool loomed up into his vision, a brilliant blue sprawling below him. He adjusted his feet on the black grip, curled his toes over the edge. 

Second beep. He crouched and braced his hands against the block. His thoughts emptied. There was nothing but his body, his hands and soles against the metal, his loud breath and his anticipation, suspended in the air, a conduit, primed to react to one thing only--

_Beep._

Air, then cold, bubbles, the spreading blue, and he was pumping his hips up and down. No room to think-- stroke, breaking out of the water, everything engaged, all of him, _sprint._ Everything, everything, the T-marker, hold it, _hold it,_ flip, someone screaming _Levi,_ slam off the wall, _more into his kicks, push it, harder,_ break _out._ His abs burned, and the silence in him was beginning to crowd-- _pain is just a feeling, go beyond,_ arms more, _you can do better, swimmer on your right, just in front of you,_ faster, faster, _go._ Halfway mark, pain beginning to fade-- mind empty, exhilaration, _there’s_ that _second wind,_ awareness expanding through the water like a sonic boom, push _more, next lane’s_ _not,_ and passing _, passing, passed, sustain, kick into last twenty-five, good, DON’T tire, head level, you don’t need a breath, keep going, T-MARKER, ALL YOU’VE GOT--_

His hands slammed into the wall. His head whipped to the right, and Lane Four touched, and he looked to the left, caught another person touching, turned to the scoreboard, _first place._ His body was buzzing, and his team was cheering, and he ripped off his goggles and grinned. The referee motioned, and they pulled themselves out of the water. The swimmer on his right, UF, with a long face and a tuft of brown hair peeking from his cap, nodded at him. “Good job, man.” 

“Thanks.” Levi smiled, and the man smiled too. “Good swimming.”

“Good swimming.”

An enormous relief lifted from his chest. His only event for the day was over, and he’d won first place, and he was _done._ The sunlight was warm and embracing, his muscles ached, and his horizon was clear. Petra stood behind his lane-- so she was the one that had been yelling on his flip-turns. He felt a rush of affection. 

“Great job, Levi,” she said, and spun him into a hug. 

He struggled against her arms, but he meant it a little playfully-- “Thanks, Petra. And good luck.”

She smiled. “Thanks, Levi.”

The women’s 200 breaststroke was starting, so Levi peeled away from the blocks. Hange approached him.

“You did great. How do you feel?” 

“Like I could do it again.” A lot slower, though. Hange grinned and knuckled his swim cap-- he swatted them away. 

They walked to FSU’s warming lane. Levi stood behind the gutter and peeled off his cap. “Could you hold this, Hange?”

Hange slipped a corner of his cap under their fastskin, on the opposite thigh of their own cap, and gave a thumbs-up. “Thanks,” Levi said.

The pool was cerulean, inviting, perfect. Levi hopped, locked his legs, and plunged rod-straight underwater. His feet touched the floor of the pool gently. A teammate flip-turned off the wall above him, and the impact rippled his hair. He loved this muted blue of the pool bottom, the peace and endorphins, the silence. His scalp was blissfully cool, especially after the heated sprint, and the water whisked, soothing, against his aching muscles. 

He lapped for ten minutes, until his arms and legs felt languid instead of tight, and lifted himself out of the water. As he did, his nape prickled-- he straightened, water still streaming from his hair, and turned around. Coach P was flipping through his clipboard and his teammates were in the bleachers, talking. He scanned the FAU tent-- no one was staring at him there, either. UF was the same-- some of them were doing jumping jacks, and the broad IMer sat on the bleachers, reading a book.

Levi spent the rest of the meet eating. He was always ravenous after a sprint. After, he counted for Hange's 500 distance freestyle, shaking the plastic lap-counter underwater and yelling himself hoarse every time they flip-turned. They came in second for their heat, and he mixed blue and lime-green Gatorades together while they warmed down.

The meet ended at four P.M. There were still three more days, the last of which was just for fun, since the six head coaches held some sway among their universities, and the trip was donor-funded each year. Levi nearly fell asleep on the bus ride to the hotel, and Hange poked him awake. “Get up, undercut.” 

The team filed into the lobby. It was full of people, and some shuffled aside to let the team of college students wheel their suitcases through. “Some kind of convention,” Levi muttered. 

Hange tipped her chin toward an elderly couple with beige bucket hats and long, rectangular black cases over their luggage. “Fishing, probably.” 

The amount of people made him feel a little tense, claustrophobic. He inhaled through his nose and out through his mouth. There was a quiet, shadowed spot by a pillar, so he and Hange squatted there, and they showed him memes on their phone. They were all about molecular biology, and Hange explained each joke, but Levi didn’t mind. He nodded and tried to understand how exactly a piece of RNA getting a massage helped the punchline.

Coach Pixis talked to the receptionist, then distributed their keys around the team cluster. When he got to Hange and Levi, by the pillar, he scratched his stubble and frowned. “The hotel messed up the booking. We’re a room short. Do you mind different arrangements for the night? There’s an open spot with Nanaba, and the hotel promised they can open up a room by tomorrow morning.” 

Hange glanced at Levi. He _did_ mind-- when he roomed with Hange, hotels elevated from tolerable to fun. But, Hange and Nanaba were partners in Statistical Analysis, and he’d heard Nanaba had friends who were interested in Hange. Levi wasn’t sure; he wasn’t too good at keeping track of those kinds of things. 

It would be an unfamiliar night, but it was only a night, and they'd be up and in the bus early tomorrow morning anyway. There were worse circumstances, he supposed.

He said, reluctantly, “I don’t mind.”

Hange gave him a mild sidelong, then looked at Coach Pixis. “Yeah, I can room with Nanaba.” 

“Great. She’s waiting at the elevator.” He tipped his head, and Hange wheeled their suitcase across the lobby. They waved at Levi and disappeared into the elevator.

A fitz of nerves that Levi quelled. “So, where am I sleeping?” 

“I arranged something with Yelena Druskar, from the UF men’s team, head coach.” Coach Pixis raised his eyebrows. “Do you know of her?” 

Levi nodded. They were NCAA legends, the both of them; Coach Pixis had mentored her in the Olympics, and now she was stoking the flames of the Gators. It was still a little dizzying to think that he was being coached by _the_ Dot Pixis, even two years in. It was a fact he’d gotten used to, and then he’d re-remember, and become awestruck all over again.

“They’re in this hotel too, and Yelena said they have a room with only one occupant. It’s not far from mine, so I’ll be close if you need anything.” Coach Pixis smiled, and his crow’s feet wrinkled. “Do you mind rooming with a Gator? Maybe you can even correct their form.” 

Levi’s face heated. Coach Pixis was always doing this: complimenting his swimming, like a proper coach, probably.

“I’m not going to tell them that,” Levi said, and Coach P laughed. 

“Don’t be modest, Levi. The best wars can be psychological.” His philosophy undergrad peeked out sometimes. 

“And what’s the other option?”

“You can stay with me and Coach Zackly. The hotel gave us a discount, so it’s better not to be frivolous with extra guests. They’ll overlook it if you’re with me.”

That was a _definitely not._ Gator it was, then. If Levi needed to, he could feign utter exhaustion and sit under the covers of his bed, on his phone. And if they brought someone into the room without telling him, which was the worst case scenario, he could tell them to fuck off.

“For just a night,” Levi said. 

“Don’t worry,” Coach P said. “We’ll have a room by tomorrow.” He looked down at his phone. “Great. Yelena said she’ll be downstairs to get you.” 

What? He was about to be escorted by _Yelena Druskar_? Levi froze. Awe, like the weightless moment at the apex of a dive, and then a plunge into nerves. He’d watched her on T.V. when he was eight. She was, like, six fucking seven. Oh, God. Holy shit. And then Coach P turned, and Coach Druskar was striding out across the lobby. 

She was even taller than she’d looked on T.V.

“Hey, Dot,” she said, and leaned down to give him a side-hug. She stood nearly a foot above him. “Good to see you. It’s been so long. I mean, ages.” 

Coach P nodded solemnly, and Levi remembered seeing them chat at the meet. “This is Levi, the chap who decided to shoulder the burden of cross-enmity communication.” 

“I see.” Her hair was cut into a shaggy blonde bowl, and Levi wondered how she tucked it into a cap. “I saw your butterfly, today, Levi. That was something.” 

Holy shit. _Yelena Druskar complimented his butterfly_. This was a woman who’d swam to gold on the Olympic stage. “Thanks,” he said, and she laughed. 

“Cool as a cucumber, this guy. Come on, I’ll show you to your room.” 

He wheeled his suitcase to the elevator, and she pressed the fourth floor button.“So what’s your event, Levi?” 

“Fifty butterfly.” 

“I bet. Your sprint is phenomenal.” 

His cheeks warmed. The doors slid shut, and the elevator lifted. “Thanks.” Then, because he knew that wasn’t a good response, “I really appreciate it. Your backstroke is legendary.” 

She smiled. “How kind. Thank you.” She drew a keycard from her wallet and handed it to him. “That’s for your room.”

The elevator dinged, and the doors opened to an orange-and-peach hallway. They walked down the corridor, turned left, and approached a corner room at the end of the hallway, by the stairwell. The plaque read _455._ Levi rolled his suitcase to a stop. 

She knocked on the door and raised her voice. “We’re outside.”

There was a rustling, then heavy footsteps. “On my way,” said a deep, clear voice, and the door swung open.

Levi stared into the face of Erwin Smith.

\----

BONUS OUTTAKES:

_Sunburned Erwin in the lobby of the hotel, on his phone_

__

_Levi sitting on the bleachers, totally not staring at a certain someone_

__

_Hange, attractive as always, exercising on the bleachers_

**Author's Note:**

> ooo, cliffhanger! i hope you enjoyed the chapter. i tried to be really precise with my descriptions and mood.
> 
> you can find my art relating to this fic on twitter @sharpgarlic! no projected future date for the second chapter; i write only if i'm feeling up to it. thank you everyone!


End file.
